


One Step Closer

by mechanicalclock



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 15:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10338354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicalclock/pseuds/mechanicalclock
Summary: There was once a brave girl who had lost her parents to the war and betrayal, but then she became a hero, assembled a team of misfits, killed the monster, saved the land, and fell in love with the queen.There was once a queen who fell in love with a hero and was afraid this love would undermine everything she'd ever worked for.In which Anora Mac Tir learns how to love and how to be loved.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asolitaryrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asolitaryrose/gifts).



> asolitaryrose wanted Cousland/Anora and I was more than happy to provide. I hope you enjoy my story, and I hope everyone had as much fun with this exchange as I did!

“What you are saying, then,” Anora fiddled with a brim of her sleeve (how different it was, the lace and velvet against the armors of her troops), “is that the most… keen loyalists of my father decided I was unfit for my duty as a ruler of Ferelden, and a traitor to the throne? Who is standing behind this coup attempt?”

Erlina, one of her best spies, a tall elven woman with wild dark hair and a scar running across her cheek, so different from who she used to be, shifted uncomfortably in her chainmail. “I do not have names yet. None of the most prominent Fereldan families seem to be involved in this. It’s just… fanatics, my Queen.”

“My experience tells me fanatics are never _just,_ ” Anora sighed, looking at the rings shining on her fingers. Her fingernails were polished and perfectly oval-shaped; nails of a queen, nails of a person who received reports from her ex-maid while fanning herself with a handkerchief, “but actually the most dangerous. Almost unpredictable in their predictability, as my father used to say.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Erlina confirmed. “It seems to be an almost informal group of people. They seem to believe that you are working with Orlais. What they take issue with the most is that your father - that teyrn Mac Tir - was executed, your Worship. Some of them also question your competence, given that you are…”

“An Orlesian well-wisher?”

“A woman, my Queen.”

Anora sighed.  She looked out of the window of her chamber, seeing dark night sky with uncountable stars, and a faint reflection of herself in the glass. Yellow hair secured on her head, blue dress that went right up to her chin, and all those blasted shining rings. She thought of the noblemen whose opinions she had to reason with as the Queen, she thought of their wives smiling politely and hiding their wrinkles under expensive powders. Anora had found wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and on her forehead, and she had solemnly sworn to herself she was never, ever going to cover them, if only to see these men avert their gazes.

~*~

The standard procedure - go somewhere nobody knows you, as long as it’s a safe place. Run away, our beloved Queen, we do not wish to slay masked enemies in the halls of the castle, we just want to wait until the whole thing calms down, pretend nothing happened, all hail Anora, the Queen of Ferelden, the sole ruler of our land.

“Vigil’s Keep, then,” Anora cast a look at the worried faces of her advisors.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, my Queen,” said one of them, his forehead folded with deep creases. “You are associated with the Warden Commander, and…”

“Nonsense,” Anora said sternly. Her attempts of keeping eye contact failed as the man lowered his eyes ruefully. “Associated or not, I haven’t taken part in a military operation in years, let alone one associated with the Wardens. Would you rather have me put in a forest hut with one guard?”

“Queen, I…”

“What I said is finite. If you want me to change my surroundings, so to speak, I will travel to Vigil’s Keep and nowhere else. Vigil’s Keep is a heavily guarded place, with many great soldiers - my dearest friend, the Warden Commander, among them - to protect me should something unfortunate happen. I will not go anywhere else.”

The room full of advisors felt suffocating. Anora tugged at the collar of her dress. She wanted to leave, she suddenly realized; she really wanted to. She felt uncomfortable, scared even – though she wasn’t sure, because queens never dread.  She did not want to stay at the castle full of people she didn’t trust, and even less did she want to travel to a summer mansion of a person who could just as well slip a dagger right between her ribs before she noticed.

In Peace, Vigilance.

~*~

Her carriage was passing through the fields of scorched earth, the reminder of the war that was as pointless and one-sided as wars get, with so many great men lost to the barely conscious creatures with no goals and no agenda. Many months of pointless fights that ended with nothing but ashes scattered across battlefields. At least there was no land to divide after, Anora thought, sinking into the seat of the carriage.

And it was all thanks to her, Elissa Cousland, whom Anora personally named the Hero of Ferelden, the fearless leader of a great army that slayed the Archdemon and brought peace upon the land.

Elissa Cousland. Anora had known Elissa since they were kids, although they have never become great friends back then. Great friendships rarely happened at court, with too many responsibilities and dependencies weighing over one’s shead at all times.

Elissa’s dark hair had always somehow managed to slip out of the pins her maids or her mother put on every morning, and she’d always managed to run away to frolic in the neighboring fields in the least appropriate moments, coming back with her shirt smeared with mud and scratched knees. Anora had been jealous of her freedom, and very conscious not to make her own dress dirty. Maybe that’s why Elissa had rarely sought her company, choosing little village kids instead to a very thinly veiled disapproval of her father.

“My mother says your hair is nice, Anora,” Elissa had told her once, when the both of them had been no older than five, “and that she would like to have hair like yours, golden and straight. But our hair is better. It’s thick and when you don’t comb it, it grows wide, like a tree. I think it’s much more interesting.”

Anora remembered these words during the years to come, the words that turned out to represent Elissa really well. Elissa did not care at all about what other people thought and lived her own live, much like a tree. Teenage years had come and Anora had realized that while the both of them had grown into women who do not yield, each had done it on their own terms. Anora had a strong sense of duty and she thought the world of her father; when her engagement had been announced, she had not even thought to protest, deciding instead to groom her fiancé into a man she would be pleased to rule with, coming short of leading him around on leash like an obedient Mabari when they had been younger. Especially since Cailan had turned out to be an easy enough clay to shape.

Teenage Elissa had spent half her days training sword fighting with her father’s best soldiers and the other half in the village by the castle, which resulted in a scandal involving one of the farmers’ daughters, a stock of hay behind her barn, and Elissa kicking and screaming that she loved that girl while her father was dragging her to her room, all of which had gone down in the presence of the Mac Tirs. Anora remembered that she had been blushing so hard she had felt close to suffocating, and she remembered the look on Cousland’s face, “if only Anora was our daughter, it would all be better”.

“Do you love Cailan, Anora?” Elissa had asked once, running a brush through Anora’s already spotless hair.

“It isn’t about love, Elissa,” Anora answered. “Cailan is a good man. He is going to be a good king and a good husband. He listens to me.”

Elissa snorted. “This sounded exactly like you, you know. But if that’s what you want… How’s the wedding night going to be, what do you think?”

Anora felt herself blush against her will, cheeks growing treacherously hot. “How would I know?”

Elissa shook her head, still smiling. “I can’t imagine giving myself to a man like that. They always look so clumsy and their hands are so big. Like I was to bed a big slobbering dog.”

“Stop it, Elissa.”

Elissa’s laugh had rippled through the room. “Ah, I’m sorry, princess. To each their own.”

The scandal had managed to be soothed down quite easily without spreading across the country. Soon Anora had been betrothed and Elissa officially engaged to some bleak nobleman, although the engagement had seemed to drag into eternity. Anora had moved into the King’s castle, and then the blight had come.

The carriage was now reaching the Vigil’s Keep, a huge fortress dominating the land, seeming as safe and steady as always. It was really blossoming now that Elissa was the Warden Commander, fortifications improved thanks to the cooperation of many groups and races, the land blooming, a feeling of safety almost oozing from the thick dark stone of the fortress.

The guards got handed an official letter by one of Anora’s own escort. He nodded and let them in through the gate. The carriage rolled into the courtyard, coming to a halt.

Anora stepped out of the carriage, wondering how the fortress was going to treat her in the days to come.

A man in a purple jacket approached them, bowing courteously.

“Your Worship,” he said officially, “my name is Varel, and I am the senechal of this fortress. Your chamber has already been arranged, and my men will seek to your luggage. I hope you will be comfortable here. You have to excuse me for not preparing anything special for you, my Queen, but as you are here under disguise…”

“It’s fine,” Anora smiled at him. “I want to be treated no differently than any Warden in here. I will gladly accept a more thorough tour of the Keep, but afterwards I will seek to myself, thank you.”

“Of course, your Worship,” Varel bowed again.

“Is the Warden Commander present?” asked Anora, her eyes absently shooting to the upper chambers of the fortress.

“Not yet, your Worship, although she is expected to come back this week. She is doing a reconnaissance at the Black Marshes.”

“Oh. Do let me know when she returns, then.”

~*~

Many people saw the Wardens as a sad monument to the Blight when the times were peaceful, but Anora always saw them as a constant, a safe harbor. This was one of few points upon which she disagreed with her father, and one that eventually proved to be deadly.

Anora spent the following days in her room, mostly, reading books she had no time to spare for before and tending to the duties she could perform outside of the castle - namely the chest full of letters she had to answer. But wearing common clothes was nice enough of a change. It wasn’t much of a surprise the few Wardens who resided here did not want to speak to her much – officially or not, who would get all close and familiar with the Queen?

She received a letter from Erlina, confiding the suspicion of the coup involving someone from Anora’s inner circle. Of course.

On day three, she ran face first into a Howe on a staircase.

“Nathaniel,” said Anora, feeling her guts twisting in disgust and hatred involuntarily.

“Your worship,” Nathaniel almost growled, raising his chin up at her.

“I still cannot get used to the knowledge there’s a Howe in here,” Anora said, mustering up all the cold in her voice that she could. Nathaniel did not seem to be bothered. His hair was much longer than when she had last seen him, and there was some sort of ridiculous beard growing on his chin.

“Well, neither can I comprehend that the Queen graced us with her presence. Mac Tirs have not been known for their love of the Wardens.”

“Neither have Howes, or so I heard.”

“This is the one thing I decided to give up on. For I do not give up nor forget easily.”

“Well. Neither do I, my dear Nathaniel.”

“And who is that, Nathaniel?” asked a stern voice of someone ascending down the stairs – an elven woman, her face sharp angles and hair in a tight burn, lips a thin line and wrinkles indicating the unyielding nature of her character. Perhaps in other life, she and Anora could have gotten along. Perhaps in other life, Anora would have looked like that too, and not have a milky-white smooth skin of a queen, thanks to the expensive lotions she had delivered from faraway lands.

“Oh, Velanna, this is the Queen of Ferelden, Anora Mac Tir,” Nathaniel shot her an urgent glance.

“My apologies, your Worship,” Velanna bowed, her face cringed, every movement of hers even less respectful than it was before. “My name is Velanna, and I am a Grey Warden. I have not recognized you, having spent my whole life with my clan in the forest, trying to avoid shemlen at all cost. I have heard you have been conducting merciful politics. I hope it eventually extends outside of your noble families.”

“Change does not come in a day, Velanna,” Anora pointed.

“That’s what they all say, and yet I find the greatest changes are those that can be executed in less than an hour,” Velanna sent her an ice-cold glance. “Now, do excuse us, your Worship.”

She and Nathaniel passed her and continued their descend down the stairs. Anora still stood motionless, unsure what to do. Was she becoming one of those rulers who couldn’t evoke respect without an expensive dress and gold to guard her from gazes of unruly subjects? Or was it her mistake all along, that she sought respect first and foremost?

~*~

The beginnings of Anora’s marriage had been quite smooth, considering what she had heard from other women. Cailan had been gentle and had never forced her to anything. She had quickly let him know that everything between them had been strictly business. The wedding night had not been unpleasant, as she hadn’t been the first woman Cailan deflowered, but the first that had been his Queen. When he had finished, she had told him that he would have been able to see to her only once a month to give her a child, and at other times he had been free to do what he pleased.

But the child had not come, Anora’s womb remaining fruitless, giving the court reasons to gossip. Even more so after the first of Cailan’s bastards had been born, and Anora had not been able to help but feel relieved she hadn’t had to be a mother, even though an heir of blood would have been desirable in those unstable times. Her father had tried to not let his disappointment show, but she had known.

When the first darkspawn attack had come, her husband had reacted with an enthusiasm beyond imagination and the great battle of Ostagar had been planned. Soon, surprising news had reached her ears – Elissa Cousland had been appointed a Warden and joined king Cailan’s troops in Ostagar. She had asked to join too, but had been denied, on account of safety.

Her father’s betrayal and her husband’s death had shed a dark cloud over her next days, but Anora was not one to lock herself in the room and grieve. Perhaps it had been her bold actions that had to her kidnapping, the days she had spent in the little room in Howe’s estate, plotting her escape and revenge. But the Warden had come first, in the person of Elissa Cousland breaking into her chamber, armor and face bloodied, head shaved completely bald, more muscular and bigger than Anora had remembered but so familiar despite it. Anora’s heart had swollen in her chest and that never really changed afterwards whenever Elissa’s silhouette appeared in front of her eyes.

“Well, well,” Elissa had said to her then, a big grin on her face, “I am glad to see you alive and well, my Queen, although I’d rather the circumstances were different. You still look beautiful, though.”

From that day on, Anora had began to see the Warden much more frequently. She missed those times now, when they both had lived in arl Eamon’s Denerim estate and had been able to see each other daily. Now, both of them busy with their duties, all they could do was just wait to meet again, and part much sooner than Anora wished.

It was a dark, chilly evening and Anora decided to step into a tavern for a glass of wine. She learnt that her common clothes granted her much more anonymity than expected, but then again, who of the people residing here ever had a chance to stand face-to-face with her to the point of recognizing her features?

She was sitting at the bar, slowly sipping at her wine, when suddenly someone took a place right next to her. It was a tall human man, wearing casual mage robes and smelling of strong alcohol.

“I recognize you,” he said cheerfully, grinning at her widely. “Maker’s balls, but the rumors were true, it is the Queen herself gracing our humble fortress! Thank you once again for saving me from the blasted templars. Anders, if you don’t remember,” the man spread his hand towards her.

Anora raised her chin proudly. “Incognito or not, I am still your Queen, mage.”

“Oh,” Anders raised his arms defensively, “I meant no disrespect, your Worship. But what’s the point of being incognito,” he winked, “if not to drop the official stand for a little while? I can’t believe you haven’t wanted that, coming here.“

Maybe she had, Anora thought, resting her chin on her hand. She _was_ tired of the court. Even though she was convinced nobody else could be a better ruler of Ferelden as of now, she was awfully tired. The months she spent hiding at Eamon’s house seemed almost like a holiday at this point.

“Well,” she said, clinking her wine glass against Anders’. “Perhaps. But don’t presume the drinks are on me.”

Anders snorted. “This is the mage exploitation I always talk about.”

Anders was good at small talk, which she attributed to his upbringing. He was also easygoing and mellow on the surface, but she could see the sternness in him boiling right underneath. He wouldn’t have survived that long if not for that.

“So, you and our Warden Commander,” Anders said slowly, “there have been rumors, you know. Juicy rumors.”

“I am aware of those,” Anora said calmly.

“So, are they…”

“We have far too many responsibilities to even think of that,” Anora said, which had, to a point, been true.

“Ah, I’m not expecting you to tell me anyway, but, you know,” Anders wiggled his eyebrows. “The times are changing. She’s a noble, you’re a noble… And responsibilities are to be worked through, you can’t let them stop you forever. You people, you have all the free will there is. You’re not us, mages. Life is too short to just not do things. That’s what I said to him last night,” Anders whispered theatrically, pointing to a dwarven man in a loosely tied tunic drinking with some colleagues at the table across the tavern, “when I tried to get into his pants.”

“Was it successful?” Anora asked.

Anders put his hand to his chest in the gesture of indignation. “Oh, but of course. Have you even doubted it? Anyway. I hope you’ll tell the Warden the same, upon her arrival.”

“Too forward, Anders.”

“My apologies, your Worship.”

~*~

“The Warden Commander has just arrived, your worship. She’s on the courtyard.”

Anora felt her heart jumping in her chest, as if she was a teenage girl. She ran towards the window, watching as three horses rode into the courtyard. A tall woman jumped off the first one, her head bare and hair cut completely off as usual. She was approached by the senechal and Anora saw her clapping her hands in excitement and glancing at her window. Anora waved at her, but she must have not noticed; instead, she ran into the castle.

Anora shot a quick glance at herself in the mirror, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear;  Elissa was going to be here any second now.

When Elissa had rescued her from the Howe’s estate, they had spent a lot of time together, plotting their next moves. Elissa had promised to support her claim for the throne right away. In her own words, “Alistair is a good man and a good Grey Warden, but he’s no ruler.” With Elissa by her side, Anora had felt she had nothing to be afraid of. What could go wrong if the person who was factually the most powerful figure in Ferelden was by your side?

The night Elissa had gone to kill the Archdemon, Anora hadn’t slept, circling the confines of her chamber over and over again, her heart beating like crazy, the pounding rhythm reminding her of the blood pumping through her veins, the blood that could have been spilling out of Elissa at that exact moment in the very same tempo. But it had not happened. Elissa had come back as a winner and a hero; had come back to the people of Ferelden, to her companions, and to Anora.

Anora had been crowned the Queen and Elissa had been announced the Warden Commander, which she had accepted with grace. Elissa had known she was the best person to hold the military position of this significance.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Elissa had said the night after the feast. Anora liked seeing her without her armor, in just a shirt and simple trousers, her skin scattered with fresh scars that served as a reminder of how much she had survived. “When will I see you again, Your Worship?”

She had been sitting awkwardly on the small chair in Anora’s chamber. It was almost comically tiny in comparison to her strong figure. Anora had been facing the window, trying to avoid the eye contact at all cost.

“Please, do not use the titles when we’re alone.”

“Sorry.”

“How would you feel if I addressed you as ‘the Warden Commander’?”

Elissa had chuckled softly. “I might come to like that, I think.” Then she had gotten up and approached Anora, grabbing her hand in a gesture so familiar Anora had flinched. Elissa had withdrawn her hand immediately, blinking at Anora, her eyes widened with fear. Anora had never seen her like that. With her treacherous heart almost jumping out of her chest, she had taken Elissa’s hand into hers and squeezed it.

“When will I see you again?” Elissa had asked quietly.

“I am afraid this is not our call to make,” Anora had said.

Elissa’s eyes had lowered as she had been dwelling on the answer, her hand still in Anora’s. It was calloused and quite rough but with clean fingernails, her dark complexion a strong contrast against Anora’s paleness. Anora had felt warmth that was close to burning on her skin. Neither of them had spoken, probably short of words.

“But we will, right?” Elissa had issued finally. “We’ll make it so that we could meet?”

“I will certainly try. Warden Commander,” Anora had said. And then she had taken the biggest leap of faith of her life - and that included trying for the position of the Queen of Ferelden as a sole independent ruler - she had leaned in, gently pulled Elissa towards herself by the nape of her neck and kissed her.

Elissa had gone still for just the briefest of seconds, but then she had responded with zest, her soft lips parted and giving under hers. She had stopped as Anora had wrapped her hands around her neck.

“I was afraid to do this earlier,” she had huffed, “that it might be… too soon”.

Anora had smiled at her softly. “One thing I have learned,” she had said, her thumb tracing Elissa’s cheek, “is that when you wait until it’s not too early, it oftentimes becomes too late.”

“Then… you want…”

“Maker, yes, please.”

Now, months passed since their first kiss, long, long months during which they saw each other but a few times, their relationship developing mostly via letters scented with a drop of perfume and hours of longing during lonely night hours. It was always Elissa who made visits to Anora’s castle; but now Anora was here, in Elissa’s home.

The door to Anora’s chamber opened with a bang, short of slamming into the bookcase by the wall. There was Elissa in the doorframe, her chest heaving like she just ran up five floors, which she probably had, her coat disheveled and a fresh, red scratch on her cheek.

“What happened?” asked Anora, pointing at her face.

“I leaned back from a sylvan too late,” she panted, and then closed Anora in her arms.

“I missed you so much, love, I did not expect to see you here,” she whispered out of breath, and then she was kissing her, her hand in Anora’s hair, and Anora let herself be embraced and loved for just a blissful moment.

Later, they were lying in bed together. It fit two people just barely, so different from Anora’s huge bed in her castle. With their limbs entangled and Anora’s head on Elissa’s shoulder, breathing her smell and leaving small kisses on her neck, she felt safe and warm.

“So there is a plot against you?” asked Elissa, the tone of her voice worried. “It’s hard to believe.”

“Well, not everyone is as captured by me as you are,” Anora teased.

“But to plan a kill seems a little bit extreme.”

“A little bit, love?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Elissa chuckled. “It’s just, everything is running smoothly as butter. And it’s obvious we need time to recover from the war. And there wasn’t even a better candidate than you.” She sighed. “I’m glad you came. I will keep you safe.”

“For one, I hear Alistair Theirin is still quite popular in some circles.”

“Alistair is good at what he’s doing now: being a Grey Warden and killing darkspawn at command. He is no ruler.”

“Perhaps neither am I.”

“What are you talking about?” Elissa turned to her. She was lying on her side, face full of worry. Anora slowly ran her thumb across the fresh scratch on her cheek. So brave, that girl of hers.

“Just some doubts. Nothing to worry about,” Anora smiled, fully aware that she probably wasn’t convincing. But what would be left of Anora if she just let her guard down and didn’t stop everything from flowing out? Probably just a terrified, weak woman that her adversaries would be overjoyed to see.

As if she was reading Anora’s mind, Elissa nuzzled her neck with her nose and said, “You think you are weak, when you have doubts. You are not, no matter what. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Were I you, I’d have fallen a long time ago.”

Anora couldn’t possibly believe her words to be true, but she still appreciated the gesture.

~*~

Her days were still filled with letters and reading, but she was doing all that while snuggled to Elissa’s side, blissfully ignoring that her future wasn’t always going to look like this.

Sadly, they weren’t the only permanent residents in the Keep, and the little crowd that seemed to flock to Elissa shortened the time they could spend together. Anora observed them with a feeling she had not recognized; a bunch of outcasts of different social statuses united in common cause, perhaps not always in harmony but still always a family, something that Anora had never had a chance to experience. She had been taught she could only rely on her own blood, and even her blood betrayed her eventually. She was jealous of Elissa fitting in so naturally – she managed to have a friend in a little dwarf with ominous tattoos on her face and a spirit of Justice embodied in a corpse, whom Anora feared so much she had once turned away when she had seen him heading towards her in the corridor. There was also that Oghren who helped to stop the Blight, an apostate, an elven apostate, and a Howe. Really, Elissa had a talent of assembling the most improbable teams. And yet now it was Anora’s life that was in danger, not Elissa’s.

Leaving the Vigil’s Keep proved to be a challenge, given that Anora was not supposed to be seen. They resolved to take walks around the nearby fields and forest, picking small flowers for each other, counting clovers and accidentally scaring away chirping birds. Anora lost her umbrella that was to protect her from the sun after Elissa had mocked her for it, “Are you that worried for your milky white skin, my Queen? I don’t think a red nose is going to sabotage your competences as a ruler”. Now her nose, mercifully not red anymore, was scattered with tiny freckles and Elissa gave it little kisses every evening, repeating over and over again how she had never seen anyone that beautiful in her entire life.

The sun was shining through the trees as they were walking across the forest, the path covered in small tree branches and dead leaves. She had a basket with her and Elissa was collecting mushrooms. She learnt quite a great deal about them during her travels, she explained, because there had been nothing else to eat, just mushrooms and some rabbit. Anora did not know much about mushrooms, just what she had learnt from books, and that definitely did not give her an authority of what could kill them and what couldn’t.

“The Wardens start asking,” Elissa said teasingly, “about us, you know. If the bed isn’t too narrow for the two of us and all that stuff. Anders offered to sleep on the floor so that we could join his bed with ours.”

“I have to thank him for his generosity. What did you answer?”

“Nothing,” Elissa said. “I know you’re not ready to ‘flaunt‘ or however you call it.”

“I wouldn’t want a Fade spirit to know about my private life,” Anora sighed, as Elissa put a mushroom into the basket, smiling with satisfaction. “And the Howe. How do you put up with having a Howe around, love? I haven’t asked before, but… It’s been really…”

“I like Nathaniel,” said Elissa, shrugging. “Grumpy, I know, but he’s a solid guy.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“Perhaps I have a soft spot for my wannabe assassins,” Elissa chuckled. “Perhaps we should lure yours in here too and become friends with them as well.” Then she turned to Anora and squinted. “Hey. Perhaps this is not that bad of an idea.”

“What isn’t?”

“Luring them in here. I mean, not literally. Just… what if we revealed your whereabouts? You are now protected by the best soldiers in the country. We could set some sort of a trap. Keep watch, catch them, and destroy them before the whole thing blows up.”

“I don’t think it is wise.”

“Anora, I am the last person who would like to see you in danger,” Elissa said, “but you cannot hide forever.”

No, she couldn’t. There used to be a time when she didn’t ever hide – otherwise, she wouldn’t be where she was here now.

Risks and gains. There was a simple calculation here; the sooner it was over, the better, and they would all laugh about it, and Anora would return to be the Queen of Ferelden whom nobody could overturn.

“I think,” Anora issued, “that it might be a good idea.”

“Really?” a smile spread on Elissa’s lips as she ran towards Anora and closed her in a tight embrace, causing her to drop her basket. “We’ll get them head-on, my love.”

“And as for the Howe,” she added after a second, when Anora’s lips were pinching from all the feverous kisses she received, “he is not his father. And I just decided to give him a chance. And you’re not your father either. Remember that.”

~*~

The sunny days went on.

In the morning Anora received a letter from Erlina, telling her that Benbow and Daughtery could be involved in the coup. Anora remembered their faces from the council meetings, men with big mustaches who hadn’t even listened to her, deciding to focus on the fact she had been wearing braids on her head.

In the afternoon, Anora was strolling the market of Amaranthine with the Warden Commander, dressed head-to-toe in a leather armor, trading comfort for a menacing look. Anora was wearing a light blue summer dress and delicate shoes and she couldn’t quite get enough of the market. She hadn’t been out in town for so long, even before she had arrived at Vigil’s Keep. Being a queen didn’t exactly provoke the best circumstances for leisure strolls around market squares.

The sulky elf and the blue-eyed dwarf came along, They were walking good two steps in front of them, the elf with her back slouched, looking around distrustfully, and the dwarf jumping around excitedly. She was constantly approaching the strolls and picking up trinkets, apples and gauntlets, only to have the merchants frown at her when she didn’t buy anything and put them back.

Here, there were people recognizing her; she could see their surprised faces when they were bowing before her. The Queen of Ferelden in the market square of Amaranthine – even Anora herself hadn’t been suspecting that this morning.

“Why are you being so quiet?” asked the dwarf all of a sudden, nudging her and hitting somewhere under her hip. “It’s such a nice day!”

“I have nothing to say,” Anora admitted.

“Not everyone enjoys constant blabbering, Sigrun,“ Velanna shook her head.

“Psh,” Sigrun waved her hand. “Without my blabbering, you’d just walk around in silence, like an old married couple who spend all the time in their workshop together anyway. Are you perhaps intimidated with all those people looking at you like you were the sky falling on their heads? That is, with dread, shock, and admiration?”

“This comes as no shock to me. I am the Queen, after all,” Anora said.

Sigrun shrugged, picking up a ripe tomato and then putting it back on the stall in passing. “In Orzammar, kings often just walked around with the people, probably to ruin their moods and get assassinated. Never set their foot in Dust Town, though.”

“This is almost what I’m doing right now,” Anora rose her brow.

Sigrun made a startled face, eyes round like gold pieces. “Oh—no! I did not mean it like that. You are much less of a mood-spoiler than those old geezers. Much better at being-the-queen thing. And definitely easier on the eye,” she laughed.

“Isn’t that quite enough, Sigrun?” asked Velanna. Sigrun ran up to her and threw her arm around her waist. Velanna went stiff under the touch for a brief second, but then she eased up in the embrace, putting her long, delicate hand on Sigrun’s shoulder. Anora glanced at Elissa.

“Is this meant to be a double date, love?” she asked. Elissa mouthed a muffled _I don’t know_ with a mocking innocence, giving Anora a side glance. “And what does it look like?”

Anora remembered the first time she had told Elissa she loved her. It had been, quite unsurprisingly so, in her bed, with Elissa’s hand between her legs, teasing and stroking her in ways she hadn’t previously thought were even possible, just before she had come undone under her, sweetness spreading through her body.

“Did you really mean it?” Elissa had asked later, when they have been lying next to each other between the thick sheets. “That you loved me.”

“Yes,” Anora had said, looking her straight in the eye. “I love you, Elissa.”

“I love you too,” Elissa had smiled gently, one dimple in her left cheek, almost right above the corner of her mouth. “What now, Queen?”

“What do you mean?” Anora had asked.

“I am asking what we are planning to do. You see, I’ve been thinking about it. The two of us are noblewomen, you are the Queen and I have just been announced a Hero and a savior, titles which, I dare say, put me in a very high social position. What do you have in mind for us then, Queen Anora?”

“I have not yet thought about it.”

“Nonsense,” Elissa had said. “And you have to understand, I am not trying to push you. I am merely concerned we are going to get involved in a scandal, and it doesn’t have to be that way at all.”

“Are you suggesting… marriage?” Anora had asked slowly.

“Why not?” Elissa had smiled. “I have never dreamt to be a princess, but I could get behind this, if it meant keeping you by my side.”

Anora had been silent. “It is too early. I have not yet thought about this.”

“I’m sorry,” Elissa had said. “I just… It has to be talked about, you know.”

“I know.”

Since then, days and days and days had passed and Anora was not yet close to the answer. She wasn’t ready. A queen marrying a warden hadn’t probably crossed anyone’s mind and Anora wasn’t sure if she wanted to be the one breaking the precedence. Especially after what happened to her father. Especially after what happened to her deceased king and husband.

Sigrun and Velanna were now holding hands, walking side-by-side through the marketplace of Amaranthine, making it seem as if everything was that simple, as if you could just take the woman you love by the hand and ignore the rest. As if two Grey Wardens, a Dalish elf and a Legion of the Dead escapee could just make everything work by a miraculous working of affection.

Perhaps it really was quite that simple.

~*~

Anora made a habit of catching the first sunrays of the morning. Slipping out of a tender embrace of her lover she would brush her hair, put her clothes on and go for a walk to the small hill by the forest line to watch how sun slowly encompassed the land. Her heart swell with joy and pride that she and her people were able to enjoy the view, that they once again managed to save this wonderful country that provided shelter for so many while still remaining strong and independent.

She wanted to protect it, every way she could. There was no malice in her actions and every decision she had ever made was for the sake of this country. She had been giving up on so much, even though a lot of people would rather see her as Loghain’s daughter who stepped over his cold corpse and blindly accepted the crown. This could not continue like this. She had to fight back.

She was so engrossed in thought she heard him only when he materialized from thin air and put a hand on her mouth, drawing a dagger. Only by a mixture of luck and natural reflexes did she manage to react, throwing her head back and hitting him in the face, her hand quickly reaching for the knife hidden in the creases of her dress and putting it right under the man’s ribs.

It’d been a long time since Anora had last killed a man. His body slowly hit the ground, his hand still twitching. Anora noticed blood flowing from the wound and a wet spot by his crotch. There was blood on her skirt. It was his.

Huh. That was the sloppiest job Anora had seen since her cooks had burned the roast when the Orlesian ambassador had been visiting.

~*~

“This is the sloppiest job I’ve seen in months,” said Nathaniel, looking grimly at the corpse cooling in the grass. The birds were chirping and the sun delicately warmed the napes of their necks.

“I suspect he decided to take a leap of faith,” said Elissa. “You know, he was spying on you and then he saw you here unarmed, or at least so he thought, and jumped you without proper preparations. Who does that?”

“Perhaps they were so afraid of an official coup they _wanted_ to make it look unbelievable,” suggested Anders.

“I can’t believe anyone would jump the Queen like that,” Oghren nodded solemnly. “Didn’t they know the chick can fight?”

“Oghren!”

“What?”

“Anyhow,” Elissa said, glancing at Anora. “Let this be a lesson for us all. No sneaking out for the Queen, and no sneaking up _on_ the Queen. How are you feeling? Come on, I’ll ask someone to collect the corpse. You need to get out of here.”

The birds were still chirping and the grass was still growing and a man was dead because he thought he could murder the Queen with sloppy knife work and wishful thinking.

~*~

There was once a brave girl who had lost her parents to the war and betrayal, but then she became a hero, assembled a team of misfits, killed the monster, saved the land, and fell in love with the Queen.

There was once a little girl who did as her father told her until she understood that she was just as strong as he was, or even stronger, and that the strength might have actually come from her girlhood. That girl grew up to become a queen who wouldn’t let anyone question her authority and legitimacy. There was once a girl who fell in love with a brave knight and was afraid this love would undermine everything she ever worked for.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” asked Elissa, the look on her face disappointed.

“Yes,“ Anora nodded, slowly folding her dress. “I have to tell my advisors about the assassination attempt. I have to get the body back to Denerim and I have to stop hiding. I have to find men who sent him and I have to make them all suffer for it. And then I have some arrangements to take care of.”

“What arrangements?” Elissa asked.

“I have to get wedding ready,” Anora smiled, grabbing Elissa’s hand. “Warden Commander. Will you marry your Queen?”

Elissa just looked at her. Then her eyes got glassy and one, two, three teardrops fell on her cheek and then Elissa was crying, and laughing between sobs.

“I just… Yes!” she said, and she kissed her, the kiss wet, sloppy, and familiar.

“Hey,” she asked after breaking the kiss, her face still wet with tears but a smile on her lips, “does the marriage offer come with half the kingdom?”

“I don’t really think so, my love,” Anora said.

“I have to reconsider then.”

“Oh, shut up,” Anora laughed, and kissed her again.

There was once a girl who built an empire on hard work, good people and trust granted to her subjects, not wishful thinking; and who shall never be afraid, not anymore.

There was once a Queen and a Warden, and they fell in love, and as their love grew stronger, so did their country.


End file.
